


Cold as Ice

by koosei



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Ascian fucking?, F/F, Generic Female WoL, Igeyorhm is Queen after all, Mildly Dubious Consent, Temperature Play, heat wave, just an Ascian seduction, nah, seduced by the villain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:01:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25640248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koosei/pseuds/koosei
Summary: Summers in Ul'dah are already too warm for comfort, yet dare you accept relief when offered by an enemy?
Relationships: Igeyorhm/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 23
Collections: Summer Fic Exchange 2020





	Cold as Ice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chysgoda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chysgoda/gifts).



> A gift for you, dear Chysgoda! I hope you're just excited as I am for this summer exchange, and that you enjoy my fill!! 
> 
> Beta'd by Wistala (TenkeyLess) <3 ILU Wist!!  
> The original promp was "Iced Drinks, Igeyorhm/f!WoL"
> 
> Title inspired by the song of the same name by Foreigner

Heat. It’s inescapable in this Twelve forsaken city, and not for the first time do you wonder why you chose to join the Immortal Flames. Even hidden in the shaded corner of a cafe, Ul'Dah's heat is unyielding and the sweat dripping down your body evaporates before it even reaches the small of your back. 

Water condenses on the outside of your glass, glinting in a stray beam of sunlight that peeks through slats in the awning. What little chill had been in the drink to start has long since faded, ice a rare and extravagant commodity in this city. Your throat is  _ hot _ and  _ dry _ and no matter how much water you drink, you just sweat it right back out again. This meeting that Alphinaud wants you to be at better be important, to warrant travelling to Ul’Dah in the worst heatwave in living memory. 

A shadow falls across the glass, blocking the sun from the droplets decorating its surface, and bringing … a chill? Heavy and lethargic with heat, you lean back in the chair and look up at your newly come guest, only to groan with annoyance.

“No. It’s too bloody hot to fight. Go away.” The heat is handled no better with eyes closed, the day’s light shining bright red through your lids despite the shade. 

A tinkling laugh like chimes in a breeze wafts forth from the red mask across from you, and you crack an eye open to peer at her blearily. The Ascian - Igeyorhm, if you recall correctly - helps herself to the seat across from the Hero of Eorzea. Your skin crawls at the sight of the pitch black robes sitting in the direct heat of the sun, and you wonder if the Ascian is physically there to feel the heat. 

“My, my. Such hostility when I’ve yet to even say a word.” The corner of her mouth lifts tauntingly, yet you can’t be bothered to rise to the bait.

“Whatever it is you want, I don’t care. I won't fight. Not today, not in this heat."

Whatever her response is, it’s lost in the red light lining the back of your eyelids. That strange chill returns once more, only for you to startle at a pair of gauntleted hands coming down on your shoulders, thumbs pressing and rubbing ever so slowly into tense muscles. 

“And what makes you think I’ve come to fight?” Her voice is a purr in your ear, hair fallen from her cowl to tease against the sweaty skin of your neck. Yet her breath chills the bumps raising themselves there, and the claws of her gauntlets are as ice against flushed skin and there’s naught you can do to stop your resulting shiver. 

“Mmmmm. No, I’ve come with hope you might be amenable to something more … ” She trails off, claw ice-cold when it crosses the border between fabric and bare flesh and you’re not sure if it’s a yelp or a moan that escapes you when you jolt from your seat into her grip. 

_ “Personal.”  _ Her breath is both hot and cold at the back of your ear, and an unbidden moan is trapped by clenched teeth. The feel of rounded metal drifts along the back of your neck, impossibly cold metal a blessed relief from the sticky sweat in your hairline. Too late do you realize the whimper building in your throat.

“What do you say, Hero? Might we come to an agreement?” A single clawed finger lifts from its place on your other shoulder. It’s elegant in a way you’re surprised by, the motion seeming crisp and new despite these being the same, wickedly sharp gauntlets as those you’ve seen her compatriots wear. The glass on the table drifts into her hand, and you’re shocked to see ice in the glass, clear and clinking gently as she lifts it above your head. 

Is she lifting her mask to drink? If you were to look up, would you see her face? Or that of her host? With the reactions she’s so effortlessly drawn from you, you almost don’t want to know. Licking your lips is no relief in this heat, moisture gone as soon as it comes, and your croaking throat is just as dry.

“What sort of game are you at, Ascian?” She hums, and you hear ice against glass above your head. 

“You would like that, wouldn’t you, Warrior? An evil, scheming Ascian, trying to trick you with promises they’ve no intention of keeping. Seems rather like something Emet Selch or Lahabrea might try. Those two never were much for creativity.” A retort is on your lips before you know it, but the cold retreating from under your hair, tracing a point along your jaw and tilting your head up to meet vivid purple eyes watching you from a slit cut into the crimson field of her mask leaves you without retort. 

“You’ll find I prefer a different sort of game than that. Already you show so much promise, my dear. I wonder how much you could take before you begged for relief?” 

There’s a strange tickling radiating outwards from the thin point of her claw where it presses into the underside of your chin, and you gasp to realize it’s a thin sheet of ice. It’s blessedly cold, a stark relief from the heat burning within. Your breath is far too warm for the chill radiating down your neck, and you can taste the brisk bite of her ice overlaying the heat as a new breath rushes in to your lungs. 

_ Is - is she really proposing what it sounds like?? _

You stiffen in your chair, too little too late to stop yourself from sinking into the thumb once more kneading at tense and tender muscles. 

"Oh, come now, hero. You're tense as Lahabrea, and your duties are nowhere near as arduous as his." A soft material you can't place brushes along your forehead, combing dampened stands back. "Let me take care of you for the nonce, Warrior."

"If-" Your voice comes thinner, threadier than you'd have liked. "If you think I'll fall for this trick, Ascian --"

"Trick?" She  _ tsks _ at you, the sound sharp and reprimanding. A rustling sounds behind you, before a mask, bright crimson red with harsh lines cut into it, is placed beside your idle hand. 

A sharp point presses your chin, lifting your stubborn face up. Lavender-grey eyes peer at you from beneath a dark violet fringe, mouth pursed and downturned in a mou.

"You would have me state my intentions outright then?" Claws prick the warmth of your cheeks. "Very well, I will match your blunted tongue with my own." 

Pinpricks dig deeper into your cheeks, pulling your head up even as her lips press down on your own. She’s soft, yet cold to the touch, seizing advantage of your surprise to slip her tongue along your lips. How long has it been since you’ve been kissed?  _ Truly  _ kissed, enemy or no. The taste of her is clean, and cold, and  _ intoxicating _ . There’s a slight hint of the fruit of your drink on her lips, and you don’t feel the groan in your throat as you chase the taste. Chase fruitlessly as she pulls away to press her lips to your ear. 

“I would have you naked and writhing beneath me, crying and praying to your gods to grant you release. No tricks, not betrayals, merely two souls passing in the night and enjoying each other’s company for as long as they will.” You stare at her through your lashes -  _ and when had your eyes closed? -  _ and the corner of her painted lips lifts slowly.

“I must also confess to a level of personal curiosity.” Shivers follow the trail of her claw along your jaw, sharp and tingly and sensitive. “The rumours speak only of your strength, not your beauty. Yet I wonder how much you are  _ truly _ capable of if pressed.” Violet eyes flick down, watching as you whet your dry lips. Has it truly gotten so much warmer already? 

Painted lips hover over yours once more, a fine, cold mist flowing on her breath while you drown in vibrant lavender eyes. “I would witness your pleasure first hand, test your limits and reward you for the effort spent in satisfying my demands.” The next kiss is slow, soft, gentle enough that you might lose yourself and forget your name for another moment but for her hand cupping your cheek and teasing sighs from your lips. The kiss ends, yet still your eyes remain softly closed, your lips mere spaces apart as you breathe in the soft scent of her.

“That is, should you dare accept my offer. ‘Tis no fun with an unwilling bed fellow.” Your dazed silence must carry on too long for her liking, as she pulls away and stands back at her full height above you. Her mask scrapes against the table, and your hand darts out to lay on hers before she can gather her mask and leave. 

_ “Truly?” _ There’s  _ no  _ desperation, no hunger in your voice. You hope if you repeat the assertion enough you’ll believe it, yet the yearning she’s lit within near burns through the lie. “No tricks, no attempts to turn me to your cause or aught else?”

She’s imperious as she looks down at you, and the urge to kneel at her feet is one that takes you by surprise. “Need I repeat myself? It matters not that you are your Mother’s chosen. In this, we shall treat as equals.” Her smirk is a wicked thing, sharp and curved below twinkling amethyst. “Well, so long as you can follow orders.”

Stomach roiling, palm sweaty, you clutch at her sleeve. The thin layer of ice she’d summoned is now gone, dampness at your throat having long since absorbed the heat of an Ul’Dahn summer, yet still you feel the chill caused by her claws trailing along your skin. Your answer is lost to the heat, voice croaking with the effort of speech that will betray your own convictions. Her crooked brow is all you need, scrambling to give a clear answer. 

“Yes.  _ Please.” _

The corner of the mask she’d lifted clatters down as she steps forward once more. Shadows deepen and condense, flowing to her in a rush as the heat bears down on you. Yet she, as a Queen in her icy realm, seems unfazed - the waves of heat in the air pass around her form as she wards them away. Sweat beads on your brow as you wait for her benediction, deep chill radiating out from the Ascian even as a shimmer seems to pass between the two of you and the rest of the bustling city. Sight and sound from beyond your corner muffles, narrowing your focus to fall only upon her. The back of your neck prickles with the effort of holding back this new chill. 

“Then we begin, dear hero. Should anything I ask of you be too much, or you wish to end all interactions, merely speak my lord Zodiark’s name.”

Her sigil flickers to life in front of her face. Crimson light shines on painted lips that curve to match her sigil's lines, and you can no longer tell the guilt and dismay from the arousal and anticipation twisting through you. 

**Author's Note:**

> Do you like Wholesome stuff? Do you like Porn? Do you like being surrounded and enabled by Wholesomely Debauched writers? Well hoo boy do we have a server for you!
> 
> Come on by to Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched and Enabling Bookclub! ( We only bite if you ask us to ;D )  
> https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic


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